


Out of the Darkness (There is No Light)

by Bandearg_Rois



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BAMF!Stiles, F/M, Is Beacon Hills like Sunnydale?, M/M, Magic!Stiles, Oh yeah this has taken far too long, Slow build Sterek, everything seems to happen there, no really
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-02
Updated: 2013-01-08
Packaged: 2017-11-23 12:01:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/621901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bandearg_Rois/pseuds/Bandearg_Rois
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After 10 years, visions lead Stiles back to Beacon Hills. What he doesn't expect is the Hale Pack, settled and expanding, or the almost-warm welcome he receives from same. Can Stiles puzzle out the visions, and take care of what's wrong? Or will he lose everything to himself?</p><p> </p><p>(No I didn't give up on this I just had a rough patch. I'm writing the next chapter, promise)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. And He separated the light from the darkness

**Author's Note:**

> Okay. Had a rough patch. Like a really rough patch. I got evicted, tried going back to school (FYI, it backfired horribly) and then other shit happened. But now I'm finally in a place where I think I can write again. So. Hi.

Stiles sighed as he crossed over into Beacon Hills, feeling the snap and sizzle of the protective barriers he'd placed so long ago hesitating to let him in. Which was a good thing, since he was definitely a lot more dangerous than anything teenaged-him could have come up with. He let the pain of passing through his own protections linger for a moment before dismissing it, turning his attention to the mostly familiar places and the memories attached to them. It had been ten years since he'd practically run away from home, from everything he knew, though it felt like he'd only been gone a few hours.

His father's police-issue Tahoe wasn't in the driveway of his childhood home, not that he'd expected anything else. After all, he hadn't called anyone or even sent out a text message announcing his pending arrival. When he turned off his Jeep, and shaken off the flash of affection that speared through him every time he made it somewhere in her, he sent his mind around the property, shoring up and strengthening the defences that he'd set up a decade before. He'd be doing the same for the rest of the territory, but as always, one's home was first priority.

Something teased at the edge of his mind before he'd even finished his inspection, and he smiled, though he probably didn't have much to smile about. Someone else had evidently felt his border-crossing, and had come to investigate. Good, it meant the barriers were still tuned. He climbed out of the Jeep, leaving his coat lying on the passenger seat, and walked to the woods on the other side of the property, relishing the slight sting as he crossed the strengthened protections.

He waited with his eyes closed in the small clearing in the heart of the little strip of woods, as the power came closer, the taste of it almost as familiar as his own. He only opened them when leaves crunched under light footsteps, turning to face his new companion.

"Alpha Hale," he said pleasantly, putting on his most charming smile. 

"Magister Stilinski," the Alpha replied, looking a little wild around the eyes, but otherwise composed. Stiles noted that there even seemed to be a smile threatening to tilt his lips up.

"You're one of the only people who actually get it right, you know. I had someone just last month call me 'Archmage'. Isn't that funny? As if I'm that old."

"Why are you here, Stiles?" Derek's words were a little on the terse side, but Stiles hadn't ever known him to waste anything, so that didn't mean much. He also wasn't facing down Disapproving Frown #15, so he was probably safe from maiming. Probably.

"Well, decided 10's a nice round number, maybe it was time to come check on everyone, see how things are going," he lied glibly, grinning because he knew Derek would be able to tell. It had the added bonus of almost being true.

"If that was true, you'd have been back five years ago, or 4, when Scott married Maria. Or when Lydia had her first children. Something else brought you here."

"Good. Sharp as you always were. I will admit, now that I'm here, that catching up is a great side benefit, but no, not my full reason. However, you'll have to wait on that. Can you call an open Pack meeting, at least of the adults that can make it? I understand Lydia's pregnant again, and so's Maria."

"Open meeting? Why?" Derek looked mildly confused, and interested, and Stiles hated, really hated, what he was about to say.

"Because what's here, what brought me here, might very well destroy us all."

~*~

He managed to get Derek to go away after about an hour, repeating that he only wanted to tell the story once, and finally made his way back to the house. His father's truck was parked next to the Jeep, and he knew someone in town had let him know his erstwhile progeny was back. He squared his shoulders and walked in, knowing his dad was waiting.

"Hey Dad," he said as he walked into the kitchen, an image of him doing the same thing after a long night sorting out the supernatural while in high school superimposing itself on the scene. Lots of memories, lots of things to block, though most of the time he didn't bother. He'd gotten used to seeing the then with the now, for the most part. He blinked, shoving the past where it belonged, and almost nothing changed. His dad looked a little older, a little leaner in the face, though he'd put on a few pounds from sitting behind a desk for a few years.

"Stiles. What brings you home?" Another one he knew as taciturn, and hadn't changed a bit.

"Things came up, decided to hit the old homestead for awhile." His father knew about the Pack, about some of the things Stiles had done in defence of same, but he'd been careful not to tell his father exactly what he did for a living, exactly how dangerous it was.

"For how long?" His father's tone held interest, though it struck him as the casual interest of an acquaintence, and not the concern of a father, which was mostly his fault, since he'd decidedly pulled away from his attachments over the years.

"Not sure yet, at least a couple of weeks. I was going to get a room over at the B&B." Mostly because Beacon Hills' one and only motel was a frequent hangout for Hunters, and he didn't want to see the things they did behind closed doors.

"Your room here's open," his dad replied, getting up and heading for the coffeemaker and the thermos standing open next to it. "I'm on shift til morning, but maybe we can grab breakfast together."

"Definitely, and I didn't want to impose with the room thing." And the first tendril of anger crept up, wrapping around his father like a pet.

"This house is yours for as long as I live, Stiles, and don't you forget that. That'll always be your room, and you're always welcome here. Why do you think I haven't changed the locks?" He looked away, a little shamed; his dad had always made that clear to him, even when they were fighting like cats and dogs over his lying and hiding, and he should have remembered that.

"Sorry. I didn't want to be in the way."

"Now that's the sort of thing that makes you sound like an idiot," his dad commented, adding a generous spoonful of sugar and a good bit of creamer to the thermos before filling it. "I'll be back by 6, we can hit the diner. Mostly because I ran out of breakfast stuff yesterday and forgot to grab some this morning."

"I can get some eggs and stuff if you want."

"Sure, but we're still going to Mabel's in the morning. See you then." He went over to the fridge as his dad started to walk out of the kitchen. "Oh, and Stiles? It's good to have you back, even if it isn't for good." The front door closed as Stiles stared at the almost bare interior of the fridge, not really seeing it. Those words from his dad were as good as someone else tackling him in a hug and telling him how much they missed him. Which might or might not happen at the meeting, depending on how his reception was, and who was there.

He let that simmer in the back of his mind as he made a list and headed for the grocery store. His dad seriously needed food.

~*~ 

He got the text with the information about the pack meeting while he was looking at ice cream, deciding that both he and his dad deserved a little bit of a splurge, especially with him not being home for long. Huh. He hadn't realized that he was calling it home in his head as well as out loud. Interesting.

_New Hale House, 7 pm. Bring red wine._

He shifted as he stood, wondering where the 'New Hale House' was, but he figured it would be easy enough to find; just follow his senses. He picked up a nice red that cost more than he probably should have spent, but he counted it as partial penance for being gone so long and coming back so abruptly. He grabbed his bags out of the back of the Jeep along with the groceries, putting away what needed it before heading up to his room to put his clothes away.

It surprised him, that it didn't look like it had when he'd lived there full time. His dad hadn't tried to make the room into a time capsule, leaving the posters on the walls, or whatever it was that parents did when their kids flew the coop. The posters were gone, the walls repainted a soft green that was surprisingly in line with his more grown-up sensibilities than that ridiculous blue that he'd held onto so long. The bed was newer, too, a queen to replace the full, the bedspread swirls of the green on the walls and a dark blue that somehow worked together. 

He dropped his laptop case on the desk and his suitcases in front of the closet, placing the duffel bag under the bed, where it would wait until he needed it. He opened the new curtains and the window, letting in the October afternoon air, and tried to decide what to do first. As soon as he opened one of his suitcases, though, he knew. Laundry.

Two loads later, and he had clean clothes hung up in the closet and tucked into the drawers, leaving out a grey button-down and black slacks for the meeting. He had no idea of the dress code, but if he was being told to bring wine, it probably wasn't jeans and t-shirts. He also didn't want to look stupid, especially when seeing the others for the first time, and clothes were sometimes the best armor against nerves.

When 6:30 rolled around, he got dressed and headed out, following the bright spark of Derek's Alpha power to a large house just on the outskirts of town, the small backyard neatly surrounded by forest on all sides. Derek was standing on the porch, in dark jeans and a nice shirt, and Stiles felt a little better about his own clothing choice.

"Alpha," he said as he got out of the Jeep, holding up the wine as he stepped closer.

"Magister," the older man replied, eyes flicking to the bottle and back to his face. "Perfect. Come in, the others will be here soon, and then we can eat." Stiles felt the snap of spells as he crossed the threshold, wondered who set the protections, but he didn't ask, especially not when Scott and a pretty brunette rose from their seats on the couch in the living room. From what he'd been able to figure out, Scott and Maria, the woman, lived with Derek in the house, though the others came and went as well, so he wasn't surprised that his oldest friend was waiting for him.

"Stiles..." Scott looked uncertain as to what he was supposed to do, so Stiles took the decision away from him, stepping forward and pulling him into a strong hug.

"Sorry I couldn't make it to the wedding," he said, even though the subject had already been hashed out over the phone at the time. He hadn't been in a position to receive mail, and by the time he'd gotten back to civilization, Scott and Maria were back from their honeymoon.

"It's fine. Good to see you," Scott said, hugging back before pulling away, tugging his wife forward. "This is Maria. Ri, this is Stiles." The woman was pretty, with big brown eyes and dimples, but Stiles could feel the power thrumming under her skin, not quite the same as his own, but at least now he knew who had placed the protections on the house. Her eyes were a little hard as she looked him over, a little fearful, but then again, he was used to that, too. She wasn't nearly as powerful as he was, so she was wary.

"Nice to meet you, Maria. Nice protections on the house. I could show you a way to strengthen them, if you like."

"But that would make it harder for you to come in," she said, and her voice was a little like music, which was pretty cool, all things considered.

"Price of power," he replied simply. "Oh, and maybe I'll stick around til the baptism." From the shock in her eyes, she hadn't known, couldn't yet feel the new life inside her, but he'd seen it as soon as he'd walked in. "Sorry, sometimes I just blurt."

"No, it's... it's fine." Scott obviously didn't get it, looking between them with a befuddled expression that Stiles knew well. "Honey, we're having a baby." Stiles stepped back, not wanting to get in the middle of their moment, turning to join Derek in the kitchen as the happy couple celebrated a little. 

"You're stronger than I thought," Derek commented, standing over one of those 5-pot crock pots. At Stiles' look, he elaborated. "I only just noticed it this morning, and Maria probably wouldn't have noticed on her own for another three weeks."

"Yes, well, belief goes a long way. So does having the cojones to deal with what comes with the power. Which is something I'll get into after dinner. Is everyone going to be here?"

"The whole pack, yes. We get together at least once a week for dinner. Lydia pulled babysitting duty afterward, though, which makes sense, since most of the kids are hers. We'll have the actual meeting once they're gone, and I'll fill Lydia in in the morning."

"Oh. I didn't want to get in the middle of Pack stuff."

"Why not? Everyone who knows you missed you, and the rest are eager to meet you."

"I'm... I'm not Pack." He watched Derek stir one of the pots before turning to him with a raised eyebrow.

"Really? From where I'm standing, you've never been anything but. Even though you left, have been gone, you're still Pack. It's the only reason I don't freak out on a semi-weekly basis, because I can tell you're alive." That surprised him, not that Derek kept tabs on him, but the way he did. Stiles closed his eyes for a moment, and then looked between the two of them, at the thin silver string connecting them through the air. It had been thicker once, had thinned out with time and distance, but it was still there, and even as he watched, new strands were joining it, thickening just a little. He was pulled from his thoughts with the arrival of the rest of the Pack.

He counted heads and came up missing one. He hadn't heard about Erica, no one had told him what happened, but looking at their faces, he knew. Just like he knew one of the little ones was hers, the oldest, an almost perfect mix of her and Boyd, carrying the same pain in his eyes that Stiles saw in the mirror every morning. He wanted to be mad at them, at Derek, for not telling him. But, there was the whole thing where he'd gone, and even though he was Pack, he wasn't close, so of course he hadn't felt it. 

So he took a deep breath and hugged Boyd, almost hugged the boy, remembering at the last minute that he and children didn't necessarily mix. And then it was dinner, with laughter and too many conversations and everyone trying to tell him everything at once, none of them but Derek realizing that he knew it all now that he'd seen them. He let the words wash over them, soaking everything up, the feelings and the memories, hoarding them because when whatever was happening was over, if they survived, he wouldn't have it anymore, because he'd be leaving again.

After dinner, Lydia chivvied the kids upstairs, and Stiles waited for her to come back down, guessing correctly that she'd want to know, even if her big belly would prevent her from doing more than planning anything. The others milled around before finding what were probably their regular seats, Boyd curled up at Isaac's feet, his head on the slimmer man's knee, which threw Stiles for a moment before he remembered Pack and werewolves, and tossed it out of his mind. Scott and Maria curled up on the sofa, and Derek sat on one end of the couch, with Jackson leaving space between them for Lydia. He himself walked over to the fireplace, remembering how Derek would pace in front of the one at the old house.

Once Lydia nestled between Jackson and Derek, he steepled his hands and pressed his fingers to his lips, thinking like he'd been thinking since he started driving back to Beacon Hills. "First, have any of you besides Lydia looked up the history of Beacon Hills?" He got a pleased look from Lydia, since of course she'd looked up the early stories of the town, but blank looks from everyone else, which was about what he'd expected. "Beacon Hills. Beacon. Hills. The 'Hills' part's easy, there's hills everywhere around here. But why is it that the hills in this particular stretch of woods were named 'Beacon'?"

"They're the tallest hills around? Early settlers and Native Americans before that, probably used the tallest as a sentry point?" Isaac sounded like he was almost sure of what he was saying, and Stiles nodded a little, pointing both hands at him.

"Close but no cigar. Yes, it was used as a sentry point at times in history, and at one point, you could see the sea from the highest hill. But, that's not the reason it was known as Beacon Hills. What is a beacon? Lydia?"

"Well, it's obviously something meant to attract attention. In medieval Europe, beacons were bonfires that were lit as signals, calls for aid in times of war. The Great Wall of China had towers spaced along it, and at each tower, there was a beacon that could be seen by the towers on either side. Effective communication technique, though it was harder to pinpoint a source if a beacon that wasn't on an end was lit first."

"Thank you, but that's not precisely what I mean. Well, actually, yes, it very much is. Beacon. Calling for aid. But who out here needed to call for aid? Who was here before the Native Americans, who actually came from Russia over the land bridge? There were people on the other side of the Rockies, sure, but who was here? Because the Native Americans called it Beacon in their tongue, and they got it from somewhere else. Where? Who? Or... What?" The wolves looked at him strangely, and he sighed. "I'm doing the Doctor Who thing again, aren't I?" When Lydia nodded, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. 

"Okay. So, there's a power here, deep and ancient. So ancient there isn't a name anymore. It was dormant, for a long time. Millenia. Probably centuries before the first documented Native Americans. But. It's waking up. And it's calling out for aid. Derek, do you know why your family first settled here? Why here, why not Oregon, or Washington, or Canada? Why Beacon County? Why Beacon Hills?"

"There... was a story. I remember it because Mom and- and Peter used to tell it. It was about before we came here, before there was anyone, about a lonely power who called for friends, but went to sleep before they arrived. I... I tell it to the kids every once in awhile. It's a fairy story, but I guess it might mean something."

"The power. It was dormant, but still there. The first Hales, which were actually not Hales at all, but that's just a matter of names, nothing to do with who or what they were, they were called here. By the power, to protect it. It thought it was dying, or that something was coming to kill it. And it was right. It was just... a few centuries early. A few millenia. The first call went out and animals answered. There weren't magic users close enough to hear it. The second call brought the Native Americans, thousands of them, the largest group north of modern day Mexico. They heard the call, but there was nothing here when they arrived. But the food was great so they stayed, even though that led to them being subjugated by the Spanish and so on and so forth. The Spaniards... well they were just expanding. But there were people. And then it called again, because it needed stronger people. It woke up, briefly, each time it called, but went back to sleep because nothing happened.

"The Hales came here because of that last call, built up a history, a family. A mish mash of cast offs from other Packs, they formed their own and became stronger than most. Until Kate. She started a cascade. And now, 17 years after that particular tragedy, the power's woken up again. Only this time is the right time, the right one, the one it needs to be awake for. But the Hale Pack, though strong, isn't strong enough for this. Not on its own, not just the wolves. Because it needs its Magus. Which, for all intents and purposes, at this point, is me. Maria would normally, but she's pregnant, no harming innocents, so it called back a native, one born and raised here, one with ties, who will want to stop what's coming. And boy do I ever want to stop it."

"What is it?" Boyd asked, lifting his head. Stiles dropped his arms, looking at each of them in turn, catching Derek's eyes last. 

"I have no idea."

~*~

That, of course, sent most of the room into a tailspin, chattering and whining (Isaac always was a soft touch), until Derek stood, cutting them all off.

"Stiles, what do you know about what's coming? Why did you come, exactly? What happened that you're here?"

"The visions. I don't normally get them, it's not my gift, I'm more hands-on than sit back and watch. But I had dreams, and waking dreams, about trees burning and people crying, children. I've been having them for months. But I had no idea where they were pointing me. I was in Prague, minding my own business, and I saw the moon, in broad daylight, full and orange. I knew that one. That was the moon when we took the Alphas. Only time I've seen it precisely that color, or that big. And then I saw Derek."

"In the same vision?"

"No, in a later one, about a week later. You were alone, and torn up. You said 'Help me' and then I came back to myself, having tea with a vampire. No joke, it was kind of surreal. So I packed up and came home. I'm not sure if it's a vision of the future, or if it was just the power latching on to something from my subconscious, putting its needs into a form I could understand. While I was on my way home, I looked up everything, timelined it, figured out what was up. And when I got here, I felt the power and knew what was happening. Well, at least that something's happening. Something bad."

"Bad how?"

"The power was strong enough, dormant, to call me halfway around the world, to think and adapt to get my attention. So why is it scared? What is it that's strong enough to scare a power that's that big? To be frank, I'm not sure what good I'm supposed to do. I'm powerful, yeah, but I'm not  _that_ powerful."

"'Belief creates the actual fact'," Lydia said softly. "And 'Imagination is more important than knowledge.' 'One person with belief is equal to ninety-nine who only have interests.' 'Man is made by his belief. As he believes, so he is.' Stiles, you are that powerful. You always have been, you just couldn't always see it.  You have to believe in yourself."

"... You've been saving those up for a rainy day, haven't you?" Stiles finally said, once he got his mouth to stop gaping.

"One more. 'Your chances of success in any undertaking can always be measured by your belief in yourself.' So, unless you believe in you, how can you expect us to, and how can you expect to win? Or maybe not win, but do whatever it is you're supposed to do?" She patted her belly. "I can't do much to help physically, but I believe in you, Stiles Stilinski. I believe that you'll do what you have to do, whatever you have to do to help."

"... Lydia, if you weren't married and able to break me in half with my own pinkie, I'd kiss you." He jumped up from where he'd slumped against the fireplace, pacing again. "Okay, so, well, that's all the information that I have. I have to find the Beacon."

"Stiles, I've been over every inch of these woods, there's nothing."

"Nope, no you haven't, trust me you haven't, there's at least one place you've never been, and you don't even know it!" He clapped his hands and jumped a little, feeling a little of his childhood seeping back in, which might be a good thing. "There's one area you've avoided, your family's avoided, hell, everyone's avoided it, even me! But now I can't avoid it. I have to find it. Though I have a feeling that when I find it, things will happen very very fast. So, plans, before I go looking."

"What... What part do you think it is?" Derek asked, and Stiles had the feeling that he was doing the Doctor Who thing again, but he couldn't help it. Matt Smith was definitely his favorite and always would be, even though Jim Sturgess had come a long way from singing Beatles songs and period romances. It was always a little fun to almost know something, know nothing at all, and baffle most everybody while doing it.

"The Heart of the forest. The oldest tree. No one's ever found it, even though everyone's looked. And I do mean everyone. The Native Americans found it once, probably stumbled on it in a moment of not paying any attention whatsoever, which the power used to its advantage. But when I try, it's going to want me to find it, I bet, which will help out a lot in the actually finding it area. But it's not time for me to find it, not yet. Plans to be made, power to draw, all that."

"You're channeling Matt Smith again," Lydia singsonged, and he grinned.

"Well, always good to channel one of the greats. Anyway, I think this meeting's pretty much over on my end, not much else we can do tonight, at least not all together, so... what now?"

"We watch a movie, and keep you away from caffeine. And sugar. And anything remotely energy inducing," Derek said, reaching over from the couch and dragging Stiles down between himself and the arm, squishing Lydia toward Jackson, who just pulled her onto his lap, leaving room.

"Oh, okay, that sounds good. I need to be home by 520, dad's coming in at 6 and we're going to breakfast, don't let me forget."

"Okay. What're we watching? And NOT one of those ridiculous Nicolas Sparks movies. Something else. Also not Doctor Who, you get too many ideas as it is." And Stiles let the problem kick around in the back of his head as the rest of the Pack dragged him back into the feeling of safety and home.


	2. Start With a Darkness

Stiles spent the next week alternately catching up with the Pack and hiding from everyone while he tried to figure out more about what had called him to the area. His duffel bag made its way out from under his bed whenever he was alone, but its contents didn't help much when he could feel the power pressing on the edges of his mind whenever he closed his eyes. The only person besides his dad that he saw regularly was Derek, but that was mostly out of some kind of obligation to his Alpha. He could have easily made it so that even Derek couldn't get in, but that took more effort than he wanted to use.

He searched through everything he'd ever learned, called in a few favors that he'd hoped not to use for something like this, and came up empty. No one knew anything. There were a few things in old Native American lore about 'The Hungering Dark', but he attributed that to a cache of vampires that had moved through the area in the 11th century B.C. and caused a bit of a panic with the local tribes. He hadn't seen anything else, nothing from what he could put together of the Hales' records, and nothing from the nomadic packs that had passed through the area over the centuries.

There really was nothing. His dreams were full of danger and pain, his Pack falling one by one in front of his eyes while he watched, unable to help, held captive by something darker than he'd ever seen. He woke up screaming four nights, clutching at Derek, who was somehow always there, holding on tight as the panic attacks escalated. That evolved to coffee in the middle of the night as he stopped sleeping altogether, not wanting to see his friends and family die in his head again.

"Will you tell me?" Derek asked, his voice quiet in the dim light over the oven as Stiles sipped at slowly cooling coffee. He'd asked before, when the screaming stopped and Stiles sat, catching his breath, and Stiles didn't answer him then, couldn't. The images were a little further away with the sight of the scarred kitchen table he'd grown up eating and doing his homework and everything else he'd done with his father growing up. He traced one of those scars as he thought about whether he should tell Derek all of it, some of it, or none of it. 

There was a mulish voice in the back of his head that insisted that Derek couldn't help, that no one could, that the only way to fix his dreams was to solve the puzzle, protect the power from whatever was coming after it. He wanted to ignore that voice, but the more he thought about it, the louder the voice got, and he sighed. He couldn't. Derek didn't need the thought of everyone dying on top of everything else, and the less he knew about it, the less he'd stress. 

"I... I can't yet. I... Sorry, Derek." He didn't look up, tracing his fingers over the table in increasingly disjointed patterns. Derek touched his hand, stopping him and making him look up.

"It's okay. You don't have to tell me yet. I just... wish that I could do something."

"You made me coffee, and you held me through the panic attacks. That's not nothing." Stiles flipped his hand over and clutched at Derek's. "You're here." Neither of them talked for awhile, and the coffee cooled, forgotten.

~*~

"What am I missing?" Out of desperation, Stiles had taken his laptop and a few of the things from his duffel to the library, hiding out in the history stacks. His room obviously wasn't cutting it anymore, he was getting tired of the same four walls and he'd always felt better surrounded by books. Even though almost none of them had ever helped with anything supernatural, the smell of them had always helped settle him at his most unfocused. And if anything, this whole situation had him less focused than he'd ever been.

"Anyone sitting here?" He jerked up from his laptop screen, where he was drawing random designs on Paint, to see Lydia standing at the opposite side of the table. Apparently, looking at her seemed to be answer enough, as she settled on the chair in front of her as if it would bite her. "Still no luck?"

"Not yet. Nothing about a 'great evil' in the countryside, though there are some pottery shards that a friend is looking at for me to see if there are any pictures or anything that survived the test of time. I'm spinning my wheels, and the power's... I don't know, it's getting..." He stopped, staring at the random doodle in front of him, remembering what he'd seen, what he'd read. "Shit. Shit, shit, shit, this is bad. Very bad. Badder than bad."

"Stiles, what is it? Calm down and tell me." He shook his head, biting his lip.

"I... I think this was my fault. The... shit, call a Pack meeting, everyone that can help plan, but I want you and Maria fray adjacent, you got me?"

"Stiles, I don't understand."

"I can only explain once, Lydia, just fucking do it!" He slammed his laptop closed and the only thing that kept him from running out of the library was Mrs. Pearce, the librarian, who he swore was some kind of creature, with how scary she was. Once outside, he jumped in his Jeep and raced to the Hale house, where Derek was already waiting on the porch.

"Stiles?"

"Plans, power, all that. I made a mistake. A big one. We're all going to die."


	3. Darkness Does Not Leave Easily

Once everyone was there, in the house, staring at him, Stiles started freaking out more, until Derek put a hand on his shoulder. Then he deflated. "This is my fault. You know how I said the power called protectors? It didn't. It called victims. To a point. The Native Americans... They weren't here to protect it, they were here to protect everyone else from it. It must have gotten away from them, at least once, because there was something about 'The Hungering Dark'. I dismissed it because vampires were around then... But. The Hales didn't come here to protect the power. They weren't called here to protect it. They were called here to contain it, to keep people from the Heart of the Forest, from the Source."

"So..."

"So seventeen years ago, Kate Argent found the Heart. But in order to do anything with it, she had to get rid of the protectors. Eleven years ago, Peter was twisted by the power, but no one saw me coming. It's tried for years. Tried to get me to come home, to find it. I didn't know that, but it's trying harder now. With Lydia pregnant again, and Maria pregnant, and three other cubs already, and my return, the Pack's stabilizing."

"But you said that the power called you back," Isaac said, looking as adorably confused as he had in high school.

"But I haven't been here for ten years. My bond with the rest of you is weak, well, was weak. Weak enough that I didn't even feel Erica, or anything else that's happened to you guys since I left. It was so weak that I didn't even see it until Derek said something. It's stronger now, and the Pack has its Magus. The power needs to finish this before the bond gets stronger, because if it can get me away from you guys, it can break it. So, I've gotta figure out how to shut it down before that happens. Also, me sleeping, probably not a good idea, now that I know this. The power can get into my dreams; it might make me sleepwalk, find the Heart before anyone can stop me."

"You won't be alone at night," Derek said, and Stiles spun to look at him, a little surprised. "I haven't left you alone yet, have I?" Stiles felt the stares of the other Pack members at that little tidbit, but he couldn't actually bring himself to care.

"... Thanks. At least that's one worry off my mind. Now I've gotta figure out how to shut it down. Normally believing that it can't touch people would work, but it's in my head, it's already gotten me to hide things, I don't know how far it would go to get what it wants." He closed his eyes, because now that he'd said it out loud, he recognized the militant voice as something other than his normal bullshit bucking against the 'system'. 

"Hide what things?" Derek's voice was quiet, but the undertone of anger was unmistakable. The rest of the Pack cleared out quickly, and Stiles slumped, trying to breathe. "What have you been hiding from me?"

"You mean besides the fact that I can't sleep because whenever I do, the power sends me visions of all of you dying? Even the children? In increasingly frightening and vomit-inducing ways? It's bad enough I have to see it, I didn't want you to start thinking of it, too!" He stalked away from Derek, which was probably the wrong thing, but he didn't want to look at him, couldn't because whenever he did he saw him burning to death just like most of his family, really didn't like that he could smell the burning skin and the ash and everything that came along with-

"Breathe, Stiles, shit! C'mon, breathe with me." Derek's in his face, and his hand's on the bigger man's chest, and he finds himself following his breathing, slowly calming down. "Stiles, you think I wouldn't want to know what was making you wake up screaming every few hours? You think I wouldn't want to know what made you stop sleeping altogether. I'm your Alpha, it's my job to help you. How can you think that I wouldn't?"

Stiles just leaned against him, letting the words flow through him, calming him down a little. Derek kept talking, most of it not even making any sense, relaxing him further. Once he was back on an even keel, he pulled away a little; outside of the middle of the night, he still wasn't used to Derek being touchy-feely. Well, honestly he wasn't used to  _anyone_ being touchy-feely with him, not even his dad.

"These nightmares, visions, whatever they are, you know why you're getting them, right?" He stops at that, since Derek sounds like  _he_ knows, but Stiles has no clue. He doesn't know why he's seeing all of it, all the time, making him exhausted and fuzzy and-

"Oh. Shit. The power's trying to control mine. It's trying to throw me off so I'm not... Wow, for an ancient power, it's pretty smart."

"Stiles. If this power's been around for millenia, it's really smart. What's the best way to throw off intelligence? To cloud a person's decision-making?"

"Scare them, make them afraid to close their eyes, until they lose sight of everything."

"So close your mind. Stop letting it in, stop reacting." Stiles laughed bitterly, looking up at his Alpha.

"You make that sound easy, so fucking easy, and it's not!"

"'There is no greater level and form of belief than believing in yourself.'" Derek sounded like he was repeating something that Lydia had said, and Stiles choked on a bit of genuine laughter. "What?"

"Did Lydia just give everyone a stock phrase for when I start acting like a child?" Derek grinned.

"Maybe. Feel better?"

"Yeah. I need my bag, and I need to go over to Shasta." Derek nodded, even though he probably had no idea why Stiles couldn't just go out into the backyard and do something. "Ideally, I would be in an old-growth forest somewhere in Eastern Europe, preferably exactly on the opposite side of the world, but if I go more than an hour away right now... I just can't. So Shasta's out of Trinity, if I could get up on the mountain that might... No. Not the mountain, that's the Heart... It's only like 10 miles away from here, right? And we're older than Mt. Shasta, so... This would have been where the Hales settled. The house was on the North side of town, about halfway between... Okay, yeah, I need to get over to Eureka, maybe the ocean." He was rambling, he knew, but he had an idea forming, and he needed to get it out before that voice decided to come back and convince him the idea was stupid.

"Okay, we'll get your bag, and go. You can stop talking if you want to, I'm not going to change my mind, and we'll get there whether you change yours or not. We'll fix this, we need you whole. You need you whole. The whole fuckin' world needs you whole, if what you've been saying about this thing is true, and if it's literally in Mount Shasta... We need every advantage we can get."

~*~

The spell was pretty simple, and if he hadn't been so far off his game, he wouldn't have even needed any of the trappings, he could have just closed his eyes and it would have been done. But he was tired, and the physical things boosted his energy, made him able to concentrate on the internal without having to worry about where the oomph for it was coming from. Within minutes of settling on the beach outside Eureka, he was done. The power was still in his head, but his dreams were safe, to a point. He could still be influenced, but the images that had been plaguing him were locked away, and there was no way to recieve any more, at least not while he slept.

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter title quotes:  
> Chapter 1: Genesis 1:4.  
> Chapter 2: Start with a darkness. Dean Young  
> Chapter 3: Darkness does not leave easily. Margaret Stohl  
> Quotes used by Lydia (in order of appearance):  
> William James  
> Albert Einstein  
> John Stuart Mill  
> Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe  
> Robert Collier


End file.
